Countdown to Chaos

By Rachel "Darknightdestiny" Winslow

Chapter 2

The sun beat down hard on the cobblestone walkway. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue, but there wasn't a bird in sight. Everything was silent and still, as if it were frozen, mired in the stagnant, mucky waters of time. Lucrecia felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. The suspense was killing her, and she wished more than ever that she could have it all done with. A sudden rushing sound from the middle of the square broke the silence, and caught her attention. The water tower shone a cruel light back at her, and she shielded her eyes from the glare.

He watched her from the towering windows above, waiting patiently for what was inevitably to come. Though his confidence was complete, he was embittered by the part of her that would feel for the man; he wished he could rid her of the weakness she carried that would ultimately make him out to be the victim. The only way to right the matter, the only saving solution he had in store, would be to make her feel sorry for herself, sorry for her situation, and sorry that she had ever let it get this far. And he would be her hero.

Yes, he would descend from his place up high in his mansion and take her in his arms and comfort her. And then he would put a new life into her, and make her a goddess among women, the mother of a new race, and thus secure her affections forever.

All of this Lucrecia was unaware of, as she waited for Vincent to arrive. And as she waited, she prepared herself for the worst, and tried to maintain her hopes for the best.

It was only moments before she saw his sillhouette coming over the hill. His hands were in his pockets, and his head swiveled to and fro atop his neck as he explored his surroundings. He had a bounce in his step; he nearly glided across the walkway, and when he reached the spot where she stood, he flashed her a big smile. "Hello."

"Hello, Vincent." She paused and gathered her breath. She'd have to take it one step at a time. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." He gave her a once-over, noting her coat and disheveled hair. "Working today?"

She nodded. "Mm-hmm."

He smiled again. "How long are you on break for?"

Lucrecia looked down at her feet, digging at the walkway as though it would give an inch. "Not long."

Clearly, there was something on her mind. At times Vincent could act aloof, but she was beginning to believe that was a sort of denial, rather than true ignorance. And even though he should recognize a cold shoulder when offered one, he was going to press it further, because that was the sort of man he was. His brow creased in mock concentration. "What is on your mind?"

Vincent had offered to take her out time and time again. He had been such a gentleman, treating her with respect as a lady should be treated; he let her be the voice, the character on his arm, rather than something to look at or discard whenever it loses its usefulness. He had never made a move, but he had never let up either, and this ridiculous dance was getting out of hand. "Vincent, where are you going with this?"

"You mean my asking you what is on your mind? Can't a man be concerned when a lady-"

"Don't play dumb. You do a terrible job of it. I meant, where are you going with me?"

"...I had figured that maybe, if you got some more time this evening-"

"Vincent..." Lucrecia crossed her arms awkwardly. "I don't know what impression I've given you..."

She heard him sigh, and instantly his guard was down. It seemed that this time, he wasn't going to put on a face, or pretend that he didn't understand what she was getting at. He must have known after all. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if you weren't worried about a specific impression you might have given me."

She stared up at him, unbelieving that he would be so blunt, and half relieved that he seemed to be cutting her work out for her. "Vincent, I-"

"Look. The truth is," he turned towards her, "that you haven't given me any impression as far as your feelings go. You've left quite an impression otherwise. But I wasn't fishing for resignation, or defiance, or even unusual joyfulness. I enjoy your company, and that is all. I'm a very patient man, and I can wait."

It was brief, and it was straightforward. He couldn't have made her any more aware if he had wanted to, unless he was willing to let her know how it was that he himself felt. "Wait for what?" she asked aloud, though she might have regretted it.

"For whatever is going to happen," he stated, eyes straight ahead this time.

Lucrecia sighed again, picking and choosing her words. "I don't want anything to happen." Vincent's brows lifted and he turned his face towards her, several unspoken questions lurking in his eyes. "I'm uncomfortable," she explained, "and busy. You're a nice guy...probably too nice. But that's how you are with me. I feel like there's a side of you for me, and a side of you that no one else sees. I'm not ready for that. Not with you, and maybe not with anybody. I don't know...I'm very confused right now."

Vincent seemed to be sorting things out in his head. "I understand...I suppose."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes looked hopeful; maybe she wouldn't have to worry about it after all.

"Nobody likes to go into these things without knowing what they want. Some people prefer not knowing, but after all, that is what they've chosen. You're confused." He swallowed hard. "I understand."

"I just need some space."

He nodded and faked a smile. "So...no dinner tonight?"

She let out a small, insincere chuckle. "No...I don't think that would be the best idea."

"I understand." He repeated the words again, feeling much like a humanoid robot. He reached out and took her hand, though he thought better of it once her soft skin was sandwiched between his cool fingers. "Will you be alright?" She was beginning to sob a little, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the notion that, even though things hadn't turned out as badly as they could have, there was still that one door closing.

"I'll be fine." She waved him away. "Go," she added with an embarrassed smile, as she began to cry a little more. A pained expression fell over his face as his mouth opened, searching for words of comfort. "Vincent...go." She began to walk back towards the mansion.

He hesitated. "...Would it be all right if I called you later? Just to see if you're feeling better?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You know what? That might be nice." Another false smile.

Vincent turned to walk from her, wondering how she had managed to make herself feel so badly. Her feelings were legitimate; she wanted her freedom and she wanted her choices. She had been the one to cut him off from her, not the other way around. And he thought to himself that perhaps, had he done something different, things wouldn't look so dismal for either of them.

He was almost past the gate when he turned to give her one last look.

And his sympathy was replaced with rage. Not even within the door, and he was already holding her tightly, stroking her honey brown hair, comforting her. As if the entire thing was Vincent's doing! And he watched from the outside, banished from her presence, not able to do a thing for her. Why not him? Why was his comfort refused so adamantly, in favor of another's? Is that what she had meant when she had said she was confused? Was that what she had meant by 'choices'? So he was pitted against this madman, and he was sworn to protect them both.

It was the epitome of outrage, the fire that outblazed every other. And he realized, as he stormed down the hill, feeling things he had never felt before, that this terrible mix of rage and heartache was the way that things were going to be.

a/n: Chapter 1 was replaced. I took the constructive criticism I received seriously, but I changed much more than that. Feedback is always appreciated. I want this story to be as good as it can be. I realize that Vincent may seem out of character, but I'm working from the perspective that he was not always the same person that we have seen in the game, and that something terrible happens to cause a change in him.